A Coincidental Fairytale
by koobabear
Summary: Ichigo is the knight off to restore his honor. Orihime is the princess he's supposed to rescue. And Rukia? She's the damsel in diplomacy turned diplomat in distress by our ever not so charming hero. Uh oh! Where will this lead? AU, IchiRuki
1. 00: Under Five Points of a Shooting Star

**A Coincidental Fairytale**

**Disclaimer**: _Bleach _isn't mine, so characters and places really belong to Kubo Tite. Story is mine though. Well, sort of.

**AN**: Yes, I've written a TOTAL revamp. I've left the original up (I might take it down), but I'd really prefer that you don't read it unless you've already read it and for some obscure reason like it much better than this version. But please. Please, please, please don't otherwise. Really I've only kept it up, so I won't be accused of ripping someone off. But I'm serious when I say please don't read it. This story is actually going to be very different; the third chapter is like a complete turnaround. I mean, it embarrasses me!

-----

**Prelude: Under Five Points of a Shooting Star**

-----

Once upon a time, there was a strong, young, handsome knight who rode a white horse in order to save his beloved, a woman he had never met but was bound to fall wholly and completely for as soon as he saw her because she was stunning, smart, generous, kind, perfect in every way, and, of course, completely made for him. So in order to find this amazing beauty and achieve this epic love, he dashed off to her treacherous prison, battled all that was evil, swept her off her feet, and raced away into the sunset, their hair whipping in the breeze.

Well, he was supposed to anyway. A few mistakes were made along the way. For example, he rescued the wrong girl, hurt the wrong people, and abandoned the horse idea altogether. And while he committed a fair amount of heroic deeds, he wasn't really a hero or even that much of a success. But, somehow, his story concluded with a happy ending anyway even though the original script got nixed, chewed up, spit out, and all the chess pieces fell onto a checker board in a game that played a bit like Snakes and Ladders.

This is that story.

And it started not with a hero but with a debt.

-----

Ichigo Kurosaki, once upon a time, ran his free hand through his damp, orange hair, more wet than bright thanks to the rain, a sigh barely escaping his lips as his grip tightened around his blade. He knew a truth all too well, and he hated it.

The truth Ichigo knew was that when you were an honorable man with a debt, you were bound to repay it, and that binding constricted your heart, your mind, and your soul until you did. And Ichigo, for all his faults, was nothing if not an honorable man, and his heart was so knotted, his mind was so jumbled, and his soul was so repressed he could hardly breathe.

_In, out. In, out_. Was it really that hard? He wasn't a baby. He could do the most natural thing known to humankind.

"You really have no idea how much you owe me, Ichigo-chan," the man sitting against the wall laughed, his hat covering his eyes. Ichigo couldn't tell if they were closed and if his creditor was paying him any respect at all.

"Trust me, I know," he replied through gritted teeth. "I really know." The man's grin widened, and Ichigo felt that soon his teeth would gnash together so hard, they'd fall out.

"And by the way," Ichigo added as an afterthought, "it's Kurosaki. You've gotta stop with this 'Ichigo-chan' crap. It's insulting and condescending, and I feel like a total fool."

At these words, the man did not stand up but did turn to face his companion with a deliberately slow tilt of his head. Ichigo winced inwardly when he realized that the collector's sleepy eyes were open, and the smile was gone from his eerie face.

"Do I really?" the man asked Ichigo. "You should be glad I've let you keep your name, but you know, Ichigo-chan, I could assign you a number instead. You'd have nothing—no name, no heart, no mind, no soul—without me." A ghost of a grin passed over his face. "I thought I was being generous. You really should thank me."

The ins and outs were becoming harder to maintain.

"Thanks," Ichigo snapped, his words short in an attempt to restrain his rather uncontrollable temper. The man lowered his head again, clearly pleased. "I had no idea it was that bad."

"You know, Ichigo-chan, your task isn't that bad either." Ichigo shot the man before him the nastiest look he could muster, but since the man's eyes were hidden again, his message may not have been delivered. The creditor continued as if it had not. "I mean, you're a handsome, strong, young man—you were a knight before you lost everything, correct?—and, okay, so you've been sent on a mission to repay a debt that's consumed your life because it was your life—and many other lives—that I saved. But the mission? Why, it's to rescue a beautiful and charming young girl—a princess, actually—who's sure to fall in love with you as soon as she sees you, not to mention that you'll get your knightly occupation back and all your honor." His grin flashed pearly white teeth. "Can't you be more enthusiastic?"

"It's a pain in the ass," Ichigo snapped, "and I hate you. But you're right. I do owe you everything, and I should be grateful. I'd give you the whole damn world and you ask for some tiny girl."

"Relax, Ichigo-chan," the man sighed unhappily. "I just wanted you to be content. I was looking out for your well-being, you see? I know you'll do it; I know that even without honor, you're honorable. But in a situation that determines whether you're screwed for eternity, or, well, get to screw some sexy woman—"

"You're vile," Ichigo hissed under his breath.

"Well, I figured you'd rather do the latter," the man finished smoothly as if he hadn't heard the snide remark, as for all Ichigo knew, he probably hadn't.

"I'm not doing either," Ichigo growled. "But what I am doing is this: I'm bringing this troublesome princess back to her land. I'll make sure she's safe. And then after, I'll return and help my family rebuild which really is what I should be doing right now."

"And you'll restore your name and your honor?"

"And my heart and my mind and my soul."

The man clapped his hands together.

"That a boy!" he cheered. "I'm so proud of you! You'll be a smashing success."

"Whatever," Ichigo muttered and with a swift motion, he threw his blade over his shoulder and it fastened strongly against his back. He stared down the man determinedly although he knew even the most menacing face could not intimidate the resting figure. He wanted to walk out of that lousy room and back into the rain, but not even his pride could permit him from hesitantly asking a necessary question.

"Just tell me: what do I do? Where do I start?"

The man, to Ichigo's annoyance, stood up tall, taller than Ichigo anyway. The man clearly didn't notice his debtor's anger. He winked.

"Well, how about getting a horse? You might want to get used to, you know, _riding_ things."

There was a silence. No ins. No outs.

"Oh, don't be so tense. Be charming. You're playing a prince after all, a gallant knight in shining armor. There's no need to scoff in the face of a little loving."

Later, Ichigo would thank life for its little miracles. It was a wonder he didn't suffocate right there.

-----

Tatsuki Arisawa still couldn't understand. It had been three days since the men in white had wrecked her village, destroyed the palace, and kidnapped her dearest friend—the best friend she could ever have had. Every day, she walked up the hill from her humble home to survey the remains of the castle, and every day she felt her eyes well up with tears. It was so unfair.

They could have gone to a different land, and the princess they could have chosen could have been snotty and rude and good riddance even if she left a good deal of property damage as consequence of her leave. Or they could have been after some poor soul in her town who was also secretly a princess but was raised as a commoner, and that would have been sad and terrible, but really, who would have cared? That girl could even have had a real destiny ahead of her, a glorious future that the small kingdom couldn't offer and could at least see the world before she met the untimely end commoners were sadly born for anyway.

But Orihime? Orihime Inoue? The princess, the regal child, the flower girl, the dignified royal, the kindest person and most beautiful soul all wrapped up in a small (though big-busted) package? Why did they have to choose _her_?

"They chose her _because_ she's everything," a voice said from behind Tatsuki. She spun around although she knew its owner well.

"I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud."

"You're going crazy," the owner replied. "You need to stop coming here. Go back to town, and stay there. Get a life. You know as well as I do that we're simply unworthy of her, and she was bound to disappear eventually. She was too good for this world. She was too good for _us_."

Angrily, she walked over to the owner and placed a sturdy, intimidating hand (the only one that worked) on his shoulder. He did not remove it however, and even his eyes remained unfazed. Tatsuki felt her temper sky-rocket.

"Shut the hell up, Uryuu," she snarled. "Shut up, _shut up, shut up_!"

"It's Ishida," he said pointedly.

"Okay, whatever, Ishida! You need to shut up! It's not okay that she's gone! She could be hurt! They could be abusing her, they could be treating her wrongly and beating her and doing God-knows-what to her, and then who gives a damn if she's got a worthy, special destiny if she's dead, or worse, damaged beyond repair?"

She saw a strange flicker in Ishida's face. He was not the type of man who complained about what many would call the rambling and paranoia of a woman since for one, he was prone to said ramblings himself and for another, Tatsuki was, well, more manly than he was. In fact, it seemed as if Ishida had already thought of every word Tatsuki had just said. And even though it seemed those exact sentiments had gripped Ishida before, his cold expression became downcast. Her ideas must have stung, and Tatsuki felt her own feelings soften. Although just a few days before, in happier times, she had objected to his attempts in courting (which he thought were subtle and she thought were transparent and which were completely lost on the object of his affections, so perhaps he had a point), she realized only now, now that Orihime and those happy times were gone, that he was a worthy suitor and a good match for the most important person in Tatsuki's world. He listened and he loved. He was good and kind.

"Do you really think they'd do that to her?" he asked, his dull tone betraying the fact that he knew the answer. "They wouldn't just capture her so that they could, well, torture her would they?" He shook his head in an attempt to convince himself. Clearly, he had done that before. "I can't believe that. I just can't."

"Then you're the one going crazy," Tatsuki said though she spoke it gently. "Who would have expected that from a strong, wise guy like you?"

"Outer strength matters so little," Ishida replied, "and wisdom is for fools."

"Well it's nice to have," Tatsuki rebuked, and suddenly, a thought struck her. Yes, Ishida was strong. He was the greatest archer in the land, and the king once claimed the young man was, in fact, the kingdom's most powerful warrior. He was the only one who managed to fight the men in white and leave the battlefield physically unscathed.

"You can save her," she breathed. "You're strong enough."

"You're strong, too," he shot back immediately. "Why don't you go save her?"

"Like I said," Tatsuki whispered, "you're enough. I'm not enough." She knew that he knew what she just spoke was true. She knew that he knew she would have already rushed off to save her best friend immediately had she not broken her arm and realized her weakness on the enemy's first blow, and indeed, despite her sagging body part, she had tried to make a boat but only collapsed against the shore. She tugged on his sleeve with her good hand. "Please, Ishida. Go save her. You're an honorable man. Why haven't you chased her yet?" She sounded desperate, but she didn't care. Ishida would not disrespect her for it. He was desperate too and utterly conflicted.

"I would be disobeying every order placed on me," he said quietly, "and I would be abandoning every person in the town who could use my strength. The princess would never forgive me for that, and I never could either." He shook his head and shut his eyes.

"You've thought about this."

"Of course, I have," Ishida snarled. And then, his anger was gone. "I've tried to convince myself they'd never do anything to her, but I've convinced myself in vain. I know the truth, and it kills me. But abandoning my country kills me, too." He shook his head again. "I just don't know."

_I don't know_.

-----

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump_. _Ba-bump_.

Ulquiorra Schiffer was not insane, but he could hear sounds that did not exist. Before, when he was alive, truly alive, he was known for seeing all and what he could not see was not real. But now, he figured, as a side-effect of being one of the undead, that which did not exist had decided to punish him for the truth he exposed during his life. Although he had tried so many times to ignore it, it persisted anyway, thumping repeatedly and steadily.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump_.

It was louder now.

"We're going to be back soon! Fucking finally!" a voice shouted, and Ulquiorra tried to go back to the sound in his head. Repetitive and vexing as it was, it was far more pleasant than most other noises in his daily routine. Unfortunately, considering his companions' voices, that was not an option. "We've been out at the goddamn sea for too many fucking days; those assholes controlling the ship should have rowed a bit goddamn faster! Let's go kill the bastards!"

There was a cheer among the majority of the crew, but as it subsided, Ulquiorra finally spoke, aggravated, though his tone did not show it.

"We could have been back a long time ago, Grimmjow," he said calmly, "if _you_ had not been the one to delay our departure with your mindless killing." He looked around the crew. "Personally, I don't mind all the waiting, but I hope that next time, Grimmjow, you don't become so hypocritical."

There was a snicker among the ship, and the blue-haired one named Grimmjow silenced it with a glare.

"Blah, blah, blah, shut up, Ulquiorra! I worked my fucking ass off, and you're now scolding me for doing your goddamned dirty work!" He glowered furiously at the crew. "_I_ captured your fucking princess! _I_ ripped off the arm of that measly king and threw the weak queen to the ground! You owe me everything—Aizen-sama's gonna reward me even, and you know I don't say shit like that if I know it isn't true!"

"What Aizen-sama does doesn't really concern me," Ulquiorra said, resigning himself to the conversation although there was nothing less he'd rather do. "I just obey his orders and look for no rewards. But," he said as he caught Grimmjow's eye, "I know that he probably won't be pleased with her treatment. It's been horrendous. I can't believe you've locked her in a cellar."

"You could have left her in _my_ room," a voice sneered. "_I_ would have taken care of her."

"You're disgusting, Nnoitra."

"Oh what?" the long-faced man asked mockingly. "Do you care, Ulquiorra?"

"No," Ulquiorra replied impassively, "but Aizen-sama does." There was a hush among the crew, and the beating returned to Ulquiorra's head again. He closed his eyes, taking it in although it bothered him completely because he had no idea what it was or what it meant other than his own insanity and his insanity certainly didn't exist. When his eyes opened, he witnessed every member's face waiting for him to say something profound. Had he cared more, he would have scoffed. He did not say profound things; usually, they were more than useless and actually quite flaky.

"We'll be there in less than a day, and we should prepare," he said finally, annoyed at the expectant glances. He looked at Grimmjow. "If you want Aizen-sama's respect, you should tend to that woman. It would displease Aizen-sama to see his prize in rags."

There was a general grumbling throughout the ship and a nasty "Fuck you" from Grimmjow, but Ulquiorra didn't care. He was prepared with his report. He could still see everything, and no one could hear what he could hear. His powers were in tact, and his sanity was safe.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

-----

Orihime Inoue could not open her mouth to groan, and she could barely open her eyes. She could see nothing but darkness. She could hear nothing more than muffled voices and thumping steps echoing across the deck. The air smelled of salt and dust and rats, and her long auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders onto the splintered wood she laid on. She was so cold, so very cold. She did not know how long she'd been there. She did not know how long it would be until she got out.

Suddenly and involuntarily, her bound body lurched across the ground, and the splintered wood scratched her face. The door above her opened, and starlight, brilliant starlight, poured in brightly, blocked by only a single silhouette.

"This…" she finally managed to whisper, her lips cracking. It was strange to hear her own voice again. However, the silhouette clearly didn't care about this small wonder.

"There you are princess," the voice announced. "Get the hell up, and I'll take those damn chains off. You need to look respectable for the shore."

The man—it was a man—walked on over and pulled her up.

"We're not going to some silly party like I'm sure you're used to," he said with a smirk that she could see in the shadows of his face. "Lucky bitch. You're about to be graced with the presence of Aizen-sama. Bet not even royalty like you has had such a treat, huh?"

Orihime could not understand what he was saying, but something in there reminded her of food—real food—which she had not seen in a long time. She had lived on scraps and putrid water.

"I hope it tastes nice," she murmured, and she knew it would not be long before she once again drifted off into unconsciousness.

-----

Rukia Kuchiki felt the salt sting her eyes, the wind tousle her hair and the waves splash lightly onto her hands. She shivered because the water was cold, but luckily the night had been relatively warm and the fresh sea breeze made her feel new. It was almost dawn, and as she glanced towards the east, she could see small beams of sun creeping out behind the mountain line.

She knew what she was doing, standing at the bow of boat and feeling the brunt of the sea, was stupid. If her brother was there, he would scold her for her foolishness: she'd cough for days and have a sore throat when she met Aizen-sama, she'd catch pneumonia and not be able to move for a week, she'd slip on the wet boat, fall off, and die. But Rukia didn't care; she had been given a gift, and she wanted to savor every instant of it.

The gift she had been given was respect. Finally—finally—after much begging, many rejections, and many more false hopes, Rukia had been assigned to an important mission that allowed her to leave—yes, leave—Soul Society. It was the first time she had ever left her native land and although Huceo Mundo was really only a day and night away by sea, for the first time in her life, Rukia felt beautifully free and unbound.

"You should be sleeping," said a warm voice with an equally warm hand now placed on her shoulder. "It's going to be a big day tomorrow, and you should be prepared."

Rukia turned towards Renji Abarai, her best friend since childhood. Her tall, red-haired companion had a huge smile on his face. Rukia's own smile in celebration of her freedom, however, had fallen off. Byakuya had told her not to display her emotions carelessly and although it was probably okay to show Renji (_Renji_ of all people) what she felt, she wanted to follow her brother's teachings anyway. He was a wildly successful politician and a well respected man, and by emulating him, Rukia hoped to capture a fraction of his success. Renji noticed her joy, however. His eyes sparkled.

"You _should_ be happy," he told her. "Hell, you should be thrilled. This is a big deal, Rukia. I'm, well, I'm proud of you."

"So much that you had to follow me here?"

"Hey, hey," Renji complained. "You said you were nervous, and I did this as a favor to your brother. I don't think he wanted you to be alone." Her friend ruffled her hair.

"You should be happy again like you were before I came out," he said after a moment's pause. "It would be worth the two-day trip to see you smile." Rukia allowed one—a real one—to slip back onto her face weakly. Renji's beam widened. "Good," he laughed. "Good. Tell me you'll miss me."

Rukia blushed furiously.

"I will say no such thing!" she stammered. "I'm not some pretty little girl. I'm a woman on a diplomatic mission!"

"Hey, hey," Renji said again, a smirk echoing on his face. "There's no shame in missing others. It shows that you care."

"There is weakness in admitting it," Rukia muttered, and her companion shook his head.

"You sound like your brother. He's a cold man."

"He's a great man."

"Yes, but you don't have to be cold to be great," Renji said gently. "Ukitake-san gave you this mission out of compassion, and, of course," he added as Rukia bristled, "belief and faith in your abilities. Byakuya-san wasn't assigned this mission. You were."

Rukia rolled her eyes and clenched her hands more tightly on the boat's railing.

"Fine," she admitted through gritted teeth, "I'm going to miss you." Renji clapped her on the shoulder with affection.

"That a girl," he said. He turned to look at her again although she was focused on the distant harbor. "We're almost there. When you get back, I have something important to tell you."

"What is it?" Rukia asked. Renji didn't joke around about important stuff. He had her full attention now, but instead of replying, he just snorted.

"Silly, it's a secret. That's why I said I'll tell you when you get back, and I will, and don't argue with me." He pointed ahead as she opened her mouth to rebuke. "Look," he said quickly, "there's Huceo Mundo.

Rukia's eyes widened at the glorious white palace, pristine and bright against the sands it laid on. The dark forests on darker mountains loomed in the distance, but the palace was illuminated by the sun which had finally made its way over the mountains. Rukia felt the warmth touch her cheeks. Perhaps she wouldn't get a cold after all.

The sun was unrelenting. She wasn't about to fail either.

-----

**AN**: Prelude is up! I've had a recent _Bleach_ revival. I should be working on _Against All Odds_, but this story actually came first, so I owe my readers for this one more (so I say). Oh, by the way, you might notice that the only point of the shooting star not to have a passage told in his point of view is Ishida. That's because I really disrespected him in my last story, and I owe him something to make him more complex (or I might have accidentally written the entire passage from Tatsuki's POV and been too lazy to edit it…). Oh, yes. And there is magic in this story. It's a fairytale after all.


	2. 01: He Came on a White Horse

**A Coincidental Fairytale**

**Disclaimer: **_Bleach _isn't mine. I wish it was!

**AN**: A huge thanks to **AvaLuna **(here's an update! I try!), **zebra13 **(thank you!), **kluxces **(also thank you!), **aleitheia **(thank you very much!), **Tamabonotchi **(I dig that name and thank you!), **mist_dreams **(I will try as hard as I can—and is that what I should call you? Thank you so much!), **Mooguri** **Klaine **(that's so nice of you to say—I'm kind of hoping it stays like that and doesn't get too OOC!), **fishfreak **(yeah, I knew you would, too, girlie), and **Leena **(thanks, and I've got your answer!)! It's a pain to leave reviews (I _know_! No sarcasm here, I swear!), but you guys really made my day! I did completely change Rukia's part in the last chapter though. I thought it was unacceptable. For anyone wondering, Rukia and Ichigo will meet in chapter four. They'll speak to each other in chapter five.

-----

**1: He Came on a White Horse**

-----

_"It's foolish," his proud father would say, "to read silly books about gallantry and true love and destiny. Only children would read fairytales."_

_"But I am a child," Ishida would mumble as his father snatched the leather-bound book away. "And I like those stories."_

_"Get over it. You're not a knight, and you're certainly not a prince," Ryuuken would reply. "And even though there may be a princess in this town, she certainly isn't going to fall in love with you and make you royalty. She won't rescue you."_

_"The stories say _I'd_ rescue _her_."_

_"It's your duty to protect her, but it's nothing like the tales," his father would snap. "You will die without her knowing your name. You're an archer. Or you're supposed to be." He glanced at his son momentarily before turning around quickly like he was disgusted with what he saw. Ishida knew perfectly well what it was: a young (barely past six years), scrawny whelp, already equipped with large spectacles over his eyes that overwhelmed his face. If he were Ryuuken, he'd probably be disgusted, too. He blushed, and though his father could not see the red in his cheeks, Ishida knew Ryuuken could sense it. He would not put his face down in shame only because his father would sense that, too._

_"There's no room for archers in fairytales," his father mused as he placed the book high on a shelf in the study and far out of Ishida's reach. "And there's no room for fairytales for archers. Instead of wasting your time with myths, you should be focused on the real world. Get back to training."_

_Ishida obeyed the last command, but his head remained with his father's offhand comment. Maybe the reason his father hated fairytales so much was because he could not appreciate them as a child. Or maybe he hated them so much because _they_ did not appreciate his kind._

_Ishida wanted to be nothing like his father. He wanted to believe in fairytales, and he believed the world wanted him to believe in them as well._

_Once upon a time_—

-----

Karakura Town was a dump, _a land for fools_, but Ichigo still called it home. Once upon a time (five years ago, actually), it was a growing city, a free market, an entrepreneur's paradise. Then _they_ came and with _them_ came destruction. But while the bustling city was no more, the natives remained and the passing businessmen still lingered. There were many oddities to be found in Karakura Town (_a land for fools_), and Ichigo figured that only his homeland would have a place on the streets where they still sold horses. Horses! Of all things!

He had decided to go searching with Yasutora Chad, probably his only**—**and so his best—friend in the world. Chad understood Ichigo's debt all too well, and Ichigo let their meeting give Chad a chance for a proper farewell. And Ichigo, in turn, knew that his friend would have come with him to save the princess in an instant had it not been for Ichigo wanting Chad to watch over his two sisters. His sisters (well, Karin at least) were tough, but the times were tougher. _He_ may have felt comfortable wandering alone at night, but he was not comfortable with his sisters doing the same.

Five minutes into their shopping spree, Ichigo thought he was pretty damn lucky to have Chad. His _amigo_ knew the area pretty well (claiming that "you have to count those hidden curses and blessings in a place; only the arrogant accept what _they_ can see as all there _is_ to see"), and they had found a horse-seller (Ichigo still couldn't believe it) pretty fast. It was only five minutes later that Ichigo knew that, _buenos amigos o no_, he was the unluckiest guy on the flipping planet.

"Hell to the fucking no."

The cursed with a cursing mouth. How appropriate.

The salesman inclined his head, a frown on his lips.

"Why the hell not?" he asked somewhat rudely in return. Apparently, the old man wasn't used to dealing with lousy customers or perhaps that was why his business was reduced to a town in shambles, _a land for fools_. Ichigo didn't appreciate the courtesy either.

"Because I want a black horse. A white horse would destroy my image."

Zangetsu shook his head.

"I know who you are. You have no image. That's why you had to buy a horse in the first place."

Ichigo felt something constrict around his lungs again as he was reminded of an unpleasant time. So even the old goat knew. Breathe, damn it. _In, out_. _In, out_. Ah, much better. He was at peace.

"Fuck you, Zangetsu-san," he snarled. Oh, perhaps not.

Clearly, the tall, dark-haired man did not take well to being told to perform intercourse or jerk off by himself. He glowered at his customer who could not glower back per say as Ichigo was glowering already.

Ichigo watched something pass over the salesman's face (probably some nasty retort or worse, the cold hard truth) but eventually Zangetsu just sighed and shook his head. Clearly he was in desperate need of some cash.

"Listen," Zangetsu said, "you need this horse for a mission, right? Not image."

"Yeah," Ichigo said. "I need a horse to rescue this princess in Huceo Mundo--you know, that church-palace thing, I think, by the sea. It's a long journey."

Zangetsu nodded sagely.

"Ah, church palace thing. How wonderfully descriptive."

Ichigo bristled.

"Shut the hell up, old man. You know what I'm talking about. We're too far inland, and I want to shorten my trip. Without a horse, it would be an even bigger ass-pain."

The old man shook his head.

"Either way," he said simply, "you aren't buying for image. So just take the white horse."

"No thanks."

Zangetsu shook his head again.

"Listen," he said. "Why do you want a black horse, anyway?"

"White horses are lame," Ichigo snorted. "Can you imagine? I'd rescue this princess on a _white_ horse. She would never respect me."

"That's true," Zangetsu admitted. "Prince Charming and fairytales seem to have lost their hipness—" Ichigo almost snorted at the irony of _un_hipness of the word, "—and girls seem to like those brooding bad boys with greasy hair more than the clean-cut good guys of my day." Zangetsu examined his own curly strands. "Nowadays, I could get myself a girlfriend."

"Like hell you could," Ichigo muttered. Chad, who had previously said nothing throughout the entire exchange, gave Ichigo a small nudge. Zangetsu simply restrained from rolling his eyes. Yes, he really needed that money bad.

"It seems you've at least got the mouth of a bad boy," Zangetsu sighed. "But back to the point, do you really need to impress this girl? I thought you just wanted to save her. Isn't that impressive enough?"

Silence.

"Ah. Sex appeal."

More silence.

"Well, you do have an awfully big sword."

Chad broke the next silence with a cough.

"I'm buying a horse someplace else."

Zangetsu sighed again.

"Please don't."

"Look," Ichigo said, "I need to rescue this girl, and it's a long journey, not to mention a crazy pain. I don't need to waste my time chatting away with a sleazy salesperson like you. I want a _black_ horse, okay? A horse that is _black_. Why do you keep pushing this white thing up my ass?"

Zangetsu winced.

"I only have a white horse."

Zangetsu said nothing more. Ichigo said nothing though if he didn't have that god-damned breathing problem, many an expletive would arise from his more-than-willing mouth. Luckily, his legs were not under the same paralysis. He turned to leave.

"Screw that," he said, finally catching his breath as he pulled Chad along with him. "I don't need a horse anyway."

"You won't be as much as a hero," Zangetsu called. There was desperation in his voice, and Ichigo resisted throwing a coin at his head. He hated salespeople.

"Screw heroes, screw fairytales," the orange-haired man grumbled. "Who believes in that shit anyway?"

-----

_Since Ishida, Uryuu Ishida, had decided at only six years of age that he believed in fairytales (secretly, of course__—__it was against his father's wishes), he was determined to make them come true. First step? Meet the Princess Orihime so that if he died, she'd at least know his name._

_Ishida's family lived in the palace. Although Ryuuken thought their position was lowly and, as he often said, "underappreciated," Ishida knew they lived well. Access to the princess was pretty easy: he just had to sneak off to the courtyard at lunch where she was rumored to play. He was a child (he hated to admit it even at that age, but he knew it was true), and his youth served him well since he could find her without the suspicion the guards. He didn't know why he had never thought of it before._

_He walked through the open castle (the Inoue's kingdom was airy and clean; he had heard of castles to the east of the sea that were dark and foreboding; luckily this was not one of those), but stopped short of his destination. In the courtyard a kid about his age was playing. He felt relieved because his peer could probably direct him to the princess, but he also felt nervous because that kid probably meant he would, in fact, meet the princess and not even Ishida's archer pride could keep him from thinking (well, knowing, truth be told) that he was dressed like a dork and his spectacles made him look like a nerd (it wasn't fair_—_his father had them and looked wonderfully handsome). Hesitantly, he approached her (or was it a him?)._

_"Hello," he said quietly, and the kid looked up at him, eyes narrowed. His own eyes widened. Her hair may have been cut very short, but the girl before him was beautiful even though she seemed a little intimidating. Since she said nothing, Ishida took it as his cue to speak._

_"I'm looking for the princess," he said politely though his already-high voice was pitched higher than usual. "Do you know where I can find her?"_

_"How do you know you're not looking at her?" the girl demanded haughtily. Well, she was certainly confident and one day, she'd break some hearts with that face of hers, but something about her scared Ishida silly. He had a feeling she'd also break some bones, spill some blood-you know, _his_ job and maybe even do it better._

_"I-I just know," he stammered. "I just don't think you're the princess. You can't be."_

_She sat down, arms crossed._

_"And why not?" she asked. "I'm plenty cute, aren't I? And I'm smart, and I'm proud, and I can be kind when my subjects are loyal." She gave him the one-over. "And you're not."_

_"But you're not the princess!" Ishida complained. "And I'm not your subject, I don't think, so why would I be loyal to you?"_

_"Do you want me to call the guards, you little nerd?"_

_Ishida stared at the crazy girl. No, he didn't want her to call the guards. His daddy would probably come (or he'd hear about it instantly), and Ishida liked punishment much less than he liked even the person before him._

_"You're not the princess," he repeated dully, but he could feel his heart breaking at the possible lie._

_"And why the hell not?"_

Because you just spoke a cuss word!_ Ishida thought, but he could only gasp at the impropriety and could not form the words. His fairytale had quickly dissolved into an unbelievable nightmare. From now on he would listen always to his father—_

_"Tatsuki-chan?" a gentle (and decidedly melodic) voice rang out, interrupting his thoughts. "Tatsuki-chan, who are you talking to?"_

_Ishida looked to his right, Tatsuki looked to her left, and both saw what Ishida considered absolute and complete perfection. Princess Orihime Inoue, the regal child, the flower girl, the dignified royal, the kindest person and most beautiful soul. Her eyes were huge, her eyelashes fluttered, flowers adorned her flowing hair (it was long), her nose was shaped perfectly for her face, her lips had a natural (though not at all indignant) pout, and over all, she was so beautiful that Ishida knew he was made to serve her majesty. _

_"Because," he told the girl (Tatsuki-chan), "_she_ is."_

_Tatsuki smiled with an unnecessary nod to confirm it._

_"I see this as the beginning of a terrible friendship," she announced as the princess drifted over._

_It was. But it was also the beginning of a blossoming love._

-----

If Huceo Mundo appeared grand many miles off, Rukia didn't even know what to call it now. It towered above her (from the entrance, she hadn't a prayer of seeing the top, and she doubted her own lack of height had much to do with it) and drowned the desert (the desert!) in shade. Rukia knew to admit fear was weakness, but she couldn't help feeling a little afraid. She wished Renji was with her, but of course she had quite literally shipped him off as soon as they reached the shore.

So thanks to her own damn pride, she now stood alone before the massive building with absolutely nothing, save its great walls and sand, in sight. Byakuya probably thought superstitions were silly, but Rukia couldn't help herself (of _course_ she couldn't help herself, damn it all to hell) from feeling that inside the walls she'd find not the living but ghosts. And while the feeling was enough to drive anyone mad, Rukia still wanted to be a success—for Byakuya, for Renji—oh, fuck that—for _herself_—and so she did what (she figured) anyone would do if faced with a giant door. She knocked.

To her surprise ("Don't show it," Byakuya instructed in her head), it opened immediately and when she saw what was inside it took every fiber of will and common sense not to jump back. Waiting in Huceo Mundo was a scrawny, skeletal man (at least she thought it was a man) with a tall, narrow mask. He seemed to be examining her, but since Rukia couldn't see his eyes, she couldn't really be entirely sure.

"I'm Aaroniero," he said immediately without even the slightest greeting, "and you must be Rukia-chan." Rukia tried not to glare at him. She wasn't a little girl! "Aizen-sama's been expecting you." His mask tilted slightly. "You're not as pretty as we thought you'd be."

Byakuya would be disappointed with her lack of professionalism, but enough was enough. That was downright inappropriate.

"My blade's pretty fine," Rukia retorted. "Since we're on the topic of introductions, I'd be happy to acquaint you two."

Aaroniero just waved her on. Clearly little girls didn't frighten creepy things like him.

"You'll find an escort at the end of the hall," he instructed. "You'd get lost without one."

Rukia held her pride and didn't reply (later she'd realize he probably wouldn't care), but she still marched through the entrance hall, head held high, though even the bareness of the walls, in reality, intimidated her a bit. The building didn't provide much of an escape from the desert outside. It was beautiful to be sure, but it was dreadfully hollow.

The figure at the end nodded briefly at her when she came up close. He looked somewhat creepy too, though at least he had an elegance that the Aaroniero man lacked. He also looked awfully sad and melancholic with black tattoos running like tear streaks beneath his eyes. Once again, Rukia had to repress a shiver.

"You are Rukia," he spoke flatly, once again without even a freaking "hello." She wasn't sure if his voice was going to be soft or indifferent, but now she knew it was indifferent all the way. He hardly looked at her and left her no time to respond. "I'm Ulquiorra. Follow me."

She obeyed practically step for step through the labyrinth. The building complex was awfully damn, well, complex, and Rukia realized to her chagrin that Aaroniero was right: if she wasn't careful, she'd be sure to get lost. _Left, right, left, left, right, and straight ahead_. Remember it. Keep your cool like Byakuya would.

However, as they wandered—well, it sure seemed like wandering—through the palace and Rukia was attempting to carefully create a map in her head, she heard a sob. Despite every intention to be just like her brother and not give a damn about anything, instinct overtook her and far down the hall they were crossing, she saw a girl—a beautiful girl to be sure with auburn hair flowing past her back and a white dress skimming her body—crying on the ground. A tall man with blue hair—Rukia could only see his back—was speaking to her. But while she could hear the echoes faintly, Rukia couldn't decipher their exact words.

Her guard, already in the next hallway, had stopped. He did not turn around, however, and Rukia doubted he'd noticed the scene.

"Why aren't you moving?"

"A young woman and a man," Rukia began hesitantly. "They're—they're fighting. It looks pretty bad."

"Describe it."

"Well, the woman is on the ground—she's really beautiful, I think—and there's a blue-haired man—I think he's talking to her, but she's crying—"

"A lover's quarrel," her guide interrupted. "Pathetic."

Ulquiorra did not bother to look back, and he began walking again. Rukia practically jogged to catch him.

"But don't you think we should do something about it?" she asked worriedly.

"Of course not," was the reply. "That man is one of the most ill-tempered in Huceo Mundo. But you must understand that his behavior is atypical. Huceo Mundo is a peaceful place."

Rukia did not believe him. Huceo Mundo was a terrible, creepy place, and it was no wonder why no one else wanted the damn job.

"In any case," he added after a moment, correctly taking her silence for disbelief, "Aizen-sama will make sure he is punished if he harms that woman badly. She is a valuable person in our society."

Somehow, this did not make Rukia feel better.

But Ulquiorra clearly didn't give a rat's ass this time, and he said no more. Rukia's thoughts drifted back towards that girl (that girl who, despite that tall man beside her, seemed so alone) as she continued to follow her guide for what seemed like forever. When they finally reached the throne room—a fucking throne room!—Rukia was almost out of breath. It took all her energy to look prepared before this Aizen-sama.

Since the only two "people" (were they really? They were both so pale!) Rukia had met in Huceo Mundo were pretty much freaks, she was actually extremely surprised by how normal (actually, how handsome) their leader seemed. Aizen was sitting in his chair when she came in. He had an ease about him despite his obvious sophistication (well, he wore glasses, anyway). She bowed immediately before her speech. And although she was exhausted, as soon as she began speaking, nervousness took over.

"Aizen-sama," she recited quickly, "I am Kuchiki Rukia. I was sent by Soul Society to hopefully forge some relations with your country, a valuable trading partner. Thank you so much for allowing me to meet you so soon; it is an honor, and I had little idea that I would be facing you before the trip began, though I can assure you I _am_ the daughter of a prominent family and am certainly able to handle these customs. I hope very much that you will not be insulted that I was sent above my brother, but please know that my older brother, the esteemed Byakuya-sama, would very much have liked to be here--"

"Relax, Kuchiki-san," Aizen laughed. Rukia felt herself relax and then blush terribly—what the hell had she been saying? Still, at least she wasn't called "Rukia" or worse, "Rukia-chan." She looked up and saw him smiling. "We appreciate Soul Society's efforts and are delighted to have you. Since our two countries are so close geographically, it would be wonderful to talk business with you and have you stay." He frowned upon further examination of her.

"But you seem awfully tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Rukia couldn't even find the answer.

"A long time ago," she admitted.

"Of course," he said politely, complete understanding on his face. For a minute he looked around pondering, but grinned suddenly as an idea seemed to strike him. "Tousen?" he called. "Gin? Would either of you two like to show Kuchiki-san to her room?"

Two figures stepped from the shadows. Although Aizen seemed okay, the two he called on were in the same vein as the rest of the residents. One of them had a blindfold covering his eyes, and the other looked like a snake. Rukia prayed that it would be no-eyes and not serpent-man who decided to give her a tour.

Unfortunately, she really didn't have that kind of luck. The man with the blindfold stepped back while the other one stepped forward. _It's a coincidental world_, Rukia thought glumly, _and sometimes, I get the worst circumstances_.

"I'd be happy, too," serpent-man said, a snicker in his voice. "Yeah, I'd be real happy to, Aizen-sama." He practically slithered over to Rukia. "I'm Gin Ichimaru," he said. "Nice to meet you. I'll show you around." He held out his hand.

Rukia had no choice; she could practically hear Byakuya's demands in her head. She reluctantly shook it.

-----

Far from our poor damsel, in fact, in an entirely different land, a man slowly assembled the last of his boat and pushed it off into the sea.

"You're leaving," Tatsuki said. The water was up to her waist, but she didn't really seem to care.

"Careful with that arm," Ishida noted. "You don't want that cloth to get wet and salty." He hated seeing her like that. She looked so small and so weak. He wished it was his arm that had cracked to pieces in the attacks and not hers.

"Right," Tatsuki agreed but waves could have crashed on her and Ishida knew she wouldn't have cared. She frowned at her friend. "What made you do this?"

"Well," Ishida said simply, "you. The princess. And some memories. I can't sleep very well anymore."

"Are they unpleasant memories?"

"No, they're quite pleasant. That's the problem."

Tatsuki's eyes softened in complete understanding. They were in the same mess together, and when it came to Orihime, they shared the same thoughts. She didn't need to comment on his choice anymore because he knew everything she had to say. She changed the topic.

"You're wearing white. That's the same color as those men."

"I was hoping it would let me blend in," Ishida admitted, "and besides, white's a rather dashing color don't you think?"

"You hope you'll become Prince Charming?" Tatsuki smiled. Ishida shook his head.

"I don't really believe in fairytales, Arisawa," Ishida said dryly. "Those are for children." To his surprise, Tatsuki shook her head as well.

"If Orihime falls in love with you, you'd be a prince, right?" She was serious. Ishida hardly knew what to say.

"If only I had a white horse," Ishida grumbled after a pause, "though I don't know how I'd fit it on the ship."

Tatsuki's smile left her face again. Her eyes almost fluttered shut, though she did, to her credit, keep them open. Ishida knew that she was worried for him.

"The waters are calm today," she admitted, "and the sky is red now. This bodes well for your journey."

Ishida nodded.

"I'm proud of you," she said, "and Orihime's going to be proud of you, too."

And with those parting words, Tatsuki's slight figure became slighter and the starry evening sky opened up wide.

-----

**AN**: Against all odds (oh, shoot me now), chapter two is up! The first three chapters are a little slow, but I did include the horse conversation. It was probably better the first time, but oh well. Chad was sort of a salute to Latin American literature (_One Hundred Years of Solitude_, anyone?) though this is not serious enough of a fanfic for me to really do something like that. Rukia's a terrible diplomat; luckily, she doesn't keep her occupation for too long (and her hosts aren't much better). I hope the pacing isn't too bad (God, I hate writing these chapters). I may go back and edit Ishida's last part (usually, most of my editing comes after the chapter's been put up). Thank you so much for all your support!


End file.
